


Counted Out

by Rathaway



Series: Card Tricks [2]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angry Jack, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Sandy and Jack are still Bros, Self-Isolation, The Heart of the Cards [Rewrite], Time-Skip, a lot of people are angry, angry tooth, frustrated Aster, here we go again, okay, okay sorry i'll stop, questionable story-telling, questionable villains, ridiculous backstory, so an alien and a dead guy walk into a bar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rathaway/pseuds/Rathaway
Summary: Jack wasn't as alone during the past 300 years as the Guardians have come to believe, but he hadn't exactly been surrounded by friends.In fact, when he thinks about, maybe a few centuries alone would have been for the best.





	1. Chapter 1

**IN THE TIME SINCE JACK BECAME A GUARDIAN** , North has invited him to every single shindig that he's held at the Pole.

This, however, is the first time that he's bothered showing his face at one since last year's Incident.

(At Sandy's goading, of course--there had been a bet that involved spiked egg-nog and hand-stands, but that's an altogether different story.)

Jack doesn't necessarily consider himself anti-social, but he did sort of spend 300 plus years occasionally chatting with only a select few. And okay, he spends plenty of time in large crowds, but they generally consist of _humans_ , most of whom can't see him, much less speak to him.

The people at this party are (unfortunately) capable of doing both, and the way that they crowd him, eager to chat and flirt and inquire, makes him feel a bit like he suffocating. It's overwhelming, and it makes him feel just claustrophobic enough to consider hiding in the rafters, but that would mean exposing himself to a certain individual that he may or may not be avoiding. Besides, North always bitches when he uses the rafters--says something about it being "rude", cusses in Russian, and complains enough that it's just not worth the trouble.

They are eager to meet you, the jolly man had said, the very first time he'd come to one of these dumb gatherings. "Everyone is curious about our new little Guardian."

(He had pinched Jack's cheek then, and it had made the frost-spirit wonder if Santa Clause wasn't being a tad condescending.)

Thinking on that particular memory makes Jack curious about what excuse North would vomit his way now. After all, it's been 5 or 6 years (he's not great about keeping time) since he became a Guardian; he'd thought all the excitement would have died out by now. But their little community of other-worldly being is clearly still quite curious about Jack's general existence, given the way guests have been pulling him in every direction, vying for his attention like it's something worth paying for.

In any case, he is _apparently_ here to socialize (Sandy, again); not that he's been doing much of that. Instead, he ducks and weaves through the crowd, offering half-hearted smiles here and there, cheeks frosting when Fortuna "accidentally" brushes a hand along the curve of his backside. He hastens his steps and smack right into a pair of chattering Naiads, one of whom gazes at him curiously, but without fear.

"Sorry!" he says quickly, and perhaps a little loudly.

The second Naiad merely smiles at him, her cheeks tinting purple in what he can only assume is something like a blush of her own. She assures him, "Don't worry about it," even as he steps back away from them. They both giggle when he slams into someone standing behind him, and this is just the perfect impression to make in a room full of people after a year spent away from the public eye.

Actually, this tends to be the only impression he ever seems to make in crowded rooms, now that he thinks about it.

A hand comes down on his shoulder, and he tears away from it, whipping around to face whoever it belongs to. The face that peers back at him is alarmingly familiar; pale eyebrows raised high at his reaction, matching hair braided down her back, and eyes that look gold in the light of the room. "Hello, Jack," Vela says in greeting, and a murmur ripples through the gathering of people around him, echoing the unease that settles in his chest.

Valkyries are solitary beings who don't usually make an appearance unless someone's death is within looming distance. It's rare for them to come for an immortal, but not unheard of.

So Jack isn't surprised to note the other beings giving him and the beautiful blonde a wide berth. They continue to do so as he leads her through the crowd, off to the side where they'll have the illusion of privacy, at least, if not the real thing. Only then does Jack tilt a careful grin her way and say, "You're a real life-saver, Vela."

The smile she sends him in turn is not reserved the way his is, and it puts him at ease. "Well, I suppose there's a first time for everything," she tells him, and Jack can't help the laugh bubbles forth, always charmed by his friend's dark humor. He pulls her into an exuberant hug. It's a gesture that she returns with enough force to lift him, briefly, right off his feet and leave him wheezing, not that he minds. He's still chuckling when they part, and Vela is watching him with an amused expression.

"We seem to be garnering quite a bit of attention," she notes.

He shrugs at that and takes a quick glance around, before bringing his focus back to her. "It's not like we don't get plenty of that all on our own anyway."

Vela dips her head in acknowledgement. "True enough," she admits readily.

Jack tilts his head at her, his wariness creeping back up on him as he asks his next question. "What are you doing here, anyway? I mean, it's been a few decades, but I distinctly remember us agreeing that the whole party scene wasn't our thing," he reminds her, and they both cringe in remembrance of Thor's last get-together.

"You're right," Vela admits, "we _both_ agreed, which makes me wonder why you're here, Jack." She shakes her head before he can say anything and adds, "But I'm not here to relive old memories, or for some silly party. I'm here for you."

Jack frowns at her and shifts in place, his grip on his staff going white-knuckled. Before he can react, a firm grip on his arm, and an even firmer voice in his ear has him jumping where he stands.

"I don't think so, Valkyrie," Tooth bites out at his side, looking less like the kind tooth fairy that he knows, and every bit the Warrior Queen that he title implies. Jack looks at her profile and sees someone who is used to giving an order and having it followed, down to the letter.

"That's right, Sheila," says a familiar voice, and padded fingers squeeze his shoulder, as if to reassure him. "Ain't no battles goin' on 'round here--so I suggest you pack 'er up and get goin'."

"Enough!" Jack demands, fury catching like fire and setting his blood to boiling as soon as he hears that stupid accent. He pulls free of unwanted touches and spins to face the pair. "Back off! This is none of your business, so keep out of it!" he spits, the words tasting bitter even as they leave his mouth. He knows he's sneering as he sets his glare on Bunnymund, and it's clear to see that the Easter Kangaroo is the one he's speaking to, but Toothiana looks at him like he gave her frostbite.

(The guilt is immediate. He hates seeing that look on her face, and what's more, he hates the fact that he _put_ that look on her face.)

Bunnymund just looks mad, but--at this point--Jack is pretty damn sure that that's just the guy's default expression, and seeing it is a stinging reminded of their last encounter, and the reason behind his year-long sabbatical.

He turns back to Vela with pursed lips and curls long fingers over her shoulder, mindful of her wings. He says, "Come on, I know somewhere quiet, where we can talk," and he guides her away.

He doesn't see the way Toothiana anxiously grips Bunny's arm, or the look that Sandy and North share after watching the exchange. He also misses a few familiar faces that watch from the edge of the crowd.

"That wasn't very nice, Jack," a voice whispers in his ear, though there isn't anyone at his shoulder. A growl tickles at the back of his throat, and he resists the ridiculous urge to swat at the air as he closes and locks the door to one of the guest rooms. He knows that Vela hears it, but she doesn't say anything.

Jack crosses the room to the window, eager to be near a quick exit. Vela leans against the wall by the door.

There was a time when they would have shared the bed, sitting cross-legged across from one another, knees touching as they spoke quietly. Back then, they had been joined at the hip, drawn together by the shared knowledge of what it's like to spend decades alone.

One upon a time, having Vela within distance of hearing and sight, but not at his side, would have made him anxious.

Now, just having Vela within distance of hearing and sight has the same effect, for entirely different reasons.

He knows without asking that he isn't going to like whatever she's come to tell him.

"C'mon, Angel, what's got you so nervous?" he asks, tacking on a nickname that has always riled her up. She doesn't even scowl at him now. Instead, she just looks bitter, and perhaps a little guilty.

"We have known each other a long time, Jackson Overland," she says quite dramatically, like Jack isn't well aware. He finds her grim theatrics so amusing that it takes a moment for it to _click_ , and when it does, he straightens.

"How do you know that name?" He certainly didn't tell her--he hasn't told anyone about his former life, never mind the name he carried while he was living it.

His friend slumps against the wall, a strange sight for Jack, who is so used to seeing her standing tall and straight-backed in a way that has always commanded attention. She says, "The sacrifice you made for your sister was a great one, Jack. I know, because I was a witness to it."

The frost spirit is speechless, for once. It's quite the oddity for someone who has spent the entirety of his life _and_ afterlife talking, whether he had an audience or not. He doesn't even remotely know where to begin. Sure, he's got plenty to say, and questions by the truck-load, but even as he opens his mouth to speak, his words escape him just as quickly as they form. For a moment, he simply stands by the window in silence. His voice sounds too-loud in the guest room as he asks, "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"

She finally meets his eyes and say, quite carefully, "I can't discuss it with you here." She pushes away from the wall and approaches. Jack is tense when she lays her hand on his shoulder, her movement just as careful as her words. "If you truly want to know more, find me at the shore whenever you're ready. It would be best for us to be away from prying ears when we have this conversation."

Jack looks her in the eye as she draws back, the secrecy of it making him nervous. Ice crystals cling to the Valkyrie's fingers as her hand falls away from his shoulder, and her breath clouds before them as the room grows cold. It's a harsh and unwanted reminder of days long-passed; days that he doesn't care to remember. He catches her arm before it drops down to her side. Absently, he notes the frost that crawls along his fingers, and he has to will the ice crystals not to keep climbing, until his skin is completely encased in his very own armor of sharp-edged ice. It's an old habit, one that he hasn't unconsciously called upon in a very long time. It makes him a little sad, to see that this is what their friendship has become. "Why now?" he demands, releasing her, now that he's confident that she won't fly off with her air of mystery to some dumb pocket dimension, where she will probably practice sword fighting and brood until he pops up in their designated meeting place. Jack says, "I've known you for two centuries, Vela, and you've apparently know me for three. Three hundred years is more than enough time to clue me in on the fact that you apparently watched me die—assuming that I believe you're telling the truth—so why are you telling me about this now? Especially after the way we left things off the last time we saw each other."

The Valkyrie's expression is guarded, and Jack knows that his own most likely matches. Any friendliness that had been lingering between them before is gone.

"What do you have to gain from this?"

She looks at him now with disappointment but not with surprise. "You are suspicious of me, which I can't fault you for, but I'm not the bad guy here, Jack. I freely admit that, in sharing this information with you, I do have something to gain, but there isn't anything malevolent about it. I know that our friendship isn't what it used to be, but we aren't enemies, either. I'm not the one that you should be worried about."

"And who should I be worried about?" Jack asks her, but he forges on without letting her answer. "Wait, let me guess, my real enemy here is the Guardians, and that's why we can't discuss it here. Do you even realize how ridiculous you sound right now? You may as well be reading the lines of some shitty villain straight from the script of a b-rated action movie." He would know, given the amount of monologuing idiots that he's met during the past 300 years. Pitch is not the most recent, as the Guardians have had run-ins with quite a few dramatic assholes over the last several years, but he is always the first to come to mind. He isn't sure what to feel about the fact that the Nightmare King is someone he thinks of when Vela is the one that he's speaking to—sick, he supposes. His stomach turns over at the thought.

"You really think I would lie to you about this," his friend says, her voice disbelieving.

"I _know_ you would!" he says too-loudly, and he can't help the way his voice cracks mid-sentence, breaking beneath emotion that makes his eyes burn and his throat ache. He scrubs a hand over his face as Vela's eyes flicker down and away. That bitterness and guilt has returned to her expression, and Jack hates the fact that he has to fight back to the urge to comfort her. He crosses his arms to keep himself from doing exactly that, his staff cradled in the crook of his arm.

When Vela meets his eyes once more, there is a determined set to her jaw.

She says, "There was a time when you called me your best friend," and that's not something that he can deny. "That's changed, understandably, but you are still _my_ best friend, and I'm not lying when I say that being here puts you in danger, Jack. You're right, of course, my part in this is somewhat self-serving, because I need your help. But I also want you to know the truth about who you truly are, Winter herald and Jackson Overland aside." Her feathers puff up and ruffle slightly against her back, a rarely-seen sign of anxiety. "If you still consider me a friend—if you can bring yourself to show me the slightest bit of compassion," she pauses and breathes uneasily. "Jack Frost, I beg of you, please consider my request. When you've made your decision, find me, and I will tell you what I know, even if you choose not to help me."

Her words echo in his mind, _Jack Frost, I beg of you_ , and his chest feels tight enough that simply taking a breath is a struggle. Valkyrie's are warriors; creatures who are not affect by silly things like human emotion. They do not beg, and yet this is the second time that Jack has listened to Vela do just that. It is the second time that she has begged _him_. He is proud of himself for not immediately giving in, the way he did last time. The more he thinks about her request, however, the quicker he finds himself caving. So, he takes a breath and looks away from her as he says, "I need time to think things over. If I decide that I believe your story, I'll come to you."

"Of course," Vela says, as something like relief flashes across her face. She straightens and smooths out the non-existent wrinkles in her shirt. "When you've made your decision, you know how to find me."

Jack can only nod and shuffle out of her way when she makes for the window, the nearest escape without drawing attention once more.

"I'll see you soon, my friend," she tells him confidently, opening the window as she speaks. The sill creaks beneath her booted foot, and she pauses. "Please, Jack, head my warning; the other Guardians are not the force of good that they pretend to be." With that, she launches herself out the window.

Jack hears the sharp snap of her wings as she unfurls them outside to catch on the winds, and he quickly closes and latches the window, before yanking the curtains closed, as though they will protect him from Vela should she choose to return and come after him with any ill-intent. He moves back, then, until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and he allows himself to fall back, sinking into the mattress.

Experience tells him that Vela is lying; that this entire encounter was nothing more than some sort of twisted and villainous plot that will end violent and bloody. But his chest still feels tight, and her parting words play on repeat in his mind, like a damaged record that keeps skipping over the same line in a song, over and over again.

_Head my warning; the other Guardians are not the force of good that they pretend to be._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: 4.29.2017  
> I uploaded the wrong doc, because I'm a dumbass. Significant plot changes at the end of the chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aster is waylaid (abducted) when he attempts to go after Jack and Vela, and the responsible party forces him to face some painful realities.
> 
> Tooth is also waylaid (but not abducted) by an old friend and a stranger, and she makes it clear that she isn't as easily fooled as some of her fellow Guardians.

**NORTH BRINGS THE PARTY TO A GRINDING HALT** **SHORTLY AFTER JACK SWANS OFF WITH THE VALKYRIE**. None of the guests are very broken up over it—the party mood had died out quickly after Vela (some of the people in attendance were apparently on a first-name basis with her. They're the first to leave) made her entrance. So, everyone is quick to clear out, muttering about bad luck and omens as they go. The crowds mostly seem concerned for Jack, rather than eager to fuel the rumor mill.

(It had been a surprise—for some Guardians more than others—to discover just how well-known and well-liked their most recent member is amongst the magical community.)

As they leave, many stop to ask after Jack, or leave their nervous well-wishes, but none of them dawdle, with a particular Asgardian being the exception, along with one very irate Holly King. However, given how caught up the Guardians are in dealing with seeing their guests off, they completely miss the exchange going on between Hiccup and one of the Asgardians.

"You're worrying over nothing, Hiccup," the Norse deity assures, "I have everything under control. This is just a precaution, there no reason to believe that Vela is planning anything."

"If that were true, you wouldn't have come all the way from Asgard to _personally_ keep an eye on her," challenges the dragon rider. He stops talking when a Yeti approaches them from the side, making a series of noises that clearly confuse his counterpart, given the face he makes. Hiccup has a much easier time translating, given that most of his time is spent around a dragon who communicates using a series of strange sounds. "Of course," he tells the stone-faced warrior with a stiff nod. "We were just leaving." He latches onto the prince's arm and tugs him towards the door, though he knows that the only reason he makes any progress towards the line of party-goers is because his friend allows it. Quietly, he says, "Oh, and cut the 'I have everything under control' bullshit. I know you're not here alone. Where is he?"

A quiet huff, a too-bright smile and, "He's around, doing what he does best."

"Right," groans the shorter of the two, as they near the door, "we're going to need a distraction."

Aster ran out of patience about half-way through the long line of guests. The way so many of them had been asking after Jack had made him uneasy and more eager to find the sprite in question in hopes of getting some answers. After all, there weren't many people who could claim they'd befriended a Valkyrie, and those who could—well, the circumstances generally weren't the best. It was unsettling to think about, any of the situations that may have led the Guardian of Joy to cross paths with a Norse Angel of Death. Even more unsettling was the realization that none of them had even known about Vela; Jack had never mentioned her.

Why? he wonders, as he reaches the half-way point to his destination. Saying that he and Jack had been distant lately would be an understatement; the angry reproach the younger man had snarled his way barely half an hour ago was the most he'd said to Bunny in months. But they had been close, before last Spring. After Pitch's defeat 5 years ago, he and Jack had become fast friends; they had confided a lot in each other during that time. Or perhaps Aster had confided a lot in Jack. Because, now that he thought about it, he'd never asked about Jack's life before they'd approached him in 2012, and Jack had never offered up any details of his past. He had always assumed that they'd known all there was to know about Jack Frost; 300 or so years alone, time spent sporadically bringing about snow days and joy to the lives of human children. But the winter sprite had never specifically said that he'd spent his life alone, had he? And, though he had described himself as "snowballs and fun-times" to the others, back when he'd first been introduced, Aster knew well enough that that wasn't all he'd ever been. The sprite had a habit of skirting the details when it came to his past, but there had been a time or two when his actions had more than given him away.

Bunny had always pushed those moments aside, brushing them off when Jack would realize he'd been caught doing something strange

(counting exits when they entered a room, unconsciously catching someone's wrist in a bone-breaking grip when they reached for him, or the way his skin lost colour and his eyes dulled at the sight of blood)

and telling himself that there would be time to talk about it _later_. In the moment, the only thing he'd wanted was to see the fear and trepidation leave his friends face. Now he wishes that he had broached the subject when the chance had presented itself, because it's later, but Jack never has the time to talk to him anymore.

The Guardian is lost in thought, but he isn't so caught up in his own head that he's oblivious to the stranger lingering in the shadows when he turns the corner. He stops walking and tilts his head to stare, watching as this person—one of the party-goers that he remembers seeing in the crowd once or twice—steps into view, shrugging off shadows like an old cloak. The lagomorph immediately thinks of Pitchner, and he feels vexed to have the reminder forced on him. His memories of the former General come along so rarely these days that, when they do surface, the sting feels sharper than it would have had he still been a threat. It's one more thought that he pushes aside for the moment, to be broken down and analyzed another day, or not at all. After all, Aster knows powerful magic when it stops him mid-trek in a hallway in Santa's secret base in the North Pole. He is far too familiar with magicians and strange beings who wield stranger abilities like weapons, used for destruction. He is also familiar with strange beings who wield stranger abilities like tools, used to carefully create and rebuild—but, unfortunately, to a much lesser extent. Experience and time have turned him into a wary and distrustful creature. So, when he looks back on this moment later, hopefully he'll have a decent excuse as to why his self-preservation instincts simply quit on him. Old age is the excuse that he typically goes with, but the rest of the Guardians seem to have grown wise to his bullshit (North's words). Tooth, in particular, is looking more and more unimpressed when he pulls that card, lately.

("I'm the Guardian of Memories," she had told him sometime last spring, somehow managing to make the title sound like a threat. "I know for a fact that your recent bouts of poor judgement have less to do with forgetfulness, and more to do with your own, steadily rising idiocy."

That one had stung a little, he's not going to lie.)

Logic tells him that this oddball magic-user is powerful and potentially dangerous. At present, however, he only has interest in tracking down Jack, so Aster dismisses him as one of North's lost guests. "Party's over, mate; exits back that way," he informs, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. The "get lost" is implied, and he doesn't wait for a response, already set on reaching his destination once more.

There's a smile in that lilting voice as he tells Aster, "Oh, I know exactly where the exit is, Thumper—do you?"

Had he not spoken, the lagomorph would not have realized that the intruder has fallen into step beside him, easily keeping pace.

He breathes harshly through his nose, ears twitching in irritation, both at his new companion's unwelcome presence, and at the nickname. "'Course I do," he snaps, his frustration only growing the longer that this brat follows him. Hopefully his tag-a-long will lose interest before he reaches Jack, he thinks as he reaches the half-way point to his destination.

As they turn the corner, realization hits him like a sock full off batteries to the back of the head. In the time it takes for everything to sink in, he's already swinging one of his boomerangs out to his side, where it slides straight through the intangible image of his unwanted companion. The grinning illusion flickers and then disappears altogether. The magic that lingers behind smells of petrichor, and it leaves a sharp taste in the back of his throat, like sucking in a breath of air when an angry winter sprite has dropped the temperature into the negatives. A thought settles in his mind, something suspicious and uncertain, but gaining ground by the minute.

"So violent," that voice rings from his right, and he whips around to face the intruder, where he leans against the wall of the corridor. Aster draws his arm back and then swings it forward, but his boomerang is gone, and all he manages to do is overbalance himself. He nearly face-plants, tripping over his own hands and feet, barely managing to catch himself on a chair that definitely wasn't here a few seconds ago. He looks up as he steadies himself, expression automatically shifting into something distinctly threatening as he catches sight of his very own magical pest, sitting in identical chair off to the side, sipping from a Starbucks to-go cup. "Have you ever considered investing in some Anger Management classes? A temper like that has the potential to land you in some pretty hot water, or maybe thin ice would be more appropriate, all things considered. Then again, you already know that, don't you?"

Aster stares at him through narrowed eyes as he straightens up from his kneeling position, finally taking a better look at the other man (all while he viciously beats back the fury that burns in his chest). He has dark skin from long periods of time spent in the sun, and his hair is light brown—short along the sides and long and curly at the top. His right eye is an even sharper green than Bunnymund's, and his left is a vivid red. It's the scars that give him away, in the end; a handful of ragged and uneven pale dots that stand out against his skin in just the right light. They follow along the curve of a mouth shaped like a cupid's bow, with five just below his lower lip, and four above the top. The place where the fifth one should be, the scar there is much more obvious. It almost looks as though someone had tried to sew his mouth shut and, in their carelessness, had torn his lip clean open.

"It's rude to stare, you know," the trickster informs him, but he doesn't look particularly offended. He even waves to the table that has appeared between the two chairs, where another to-go cup sits, lid gone, and a tea tag dangling over the side. "Jasmine—I know it's your favourite."

"I'm not in the mood for your games, so let's cut to the quick. What th' _hell_ are you playin' at? Why'd ye send the Valkyrie after Jack? You lot must know that ye haven't got any sorta claim over 'im, especially now that he's a Guardian."

"That's funny," the Norse deity accuses, his tone implying that Bunny's words aren't funny at all, "because the way you talk suggests that, while we hold no claim over Jack, you _Guardians_ do—when, in all reality, you don't." The next time he speaks, he sounds like he's standing just behind the Guardian, but he is gone from the chair and nowhere in sight. "Jack Frost is not an object or a pet to be owned." Something sharp grazes the thin skin of his throat, and it has Aster going still on instinct. Loki shimmers into existence before him, green and red eyes sharp as he holds one of his infamous daggers against the delicate curve of the alien's neck. The smile he offers up is cruel, his words simple and matter-of-fact as he adds, "If our dear winter herald _could_ be kept, you would have never even known him as you do, little rabbit. I know a select few who would have ensured that you and Jack would have never crossed paths again, after the Spring of '68." His image flickers once more, and he is back to sitting in his chair once more, all his focus on diligently rubbing at a smudge on the blade of his weapon with the pad of his thumb. Aster's words stick in his throat, and he stays in place by the chair, still as a statue. This time, however, it is a combination of anger, shame, and surprise that has him frozen in place, not the threat of a well-handled blade. He tries to sort his thoughts, and the trickster forges on, "Not that it really matters. You seem to do a wonderful job of keeping Jack at arms-length all by yourself." His expression brightens as he stares down at his dagger and—all smudges apparently defeated—tucks it away within his coat as he turns his gaze back to the Easter Bunny. He either has no idea what kind of effect his words are having, or he doesn't care.

"In any case, to answer your question, you have nothing to worry about. There are at least two members of the Asgardian royal family who owe a great debt to Jack Frost. More importantly, there are at least two members of the Asgardian royal family who consider Jack Frost a very dear and loyal friend. We didn't send Vela here to drag him off to Valhalla; we didn't send Vela here at all." They had simply tracked her here.

Bunnymund spends a moment processing everything, taking in the fact that Jack is apparently _good friends_ with members of the Asgardian royal family, and he'd confided quite a bit about his past with Aster to the craziest of the bunch. It's just makes for one more thing to set aside for another day. Instead, he focuses on what isn't being said. "If you didn't send her here, then why did she come? And why did you feel the need to stop me from huntin' down her and Jack? Yeah, I ain't buyin' it," he says irritably. "If you were really Jack's friend, you would be far more concerned with getting' him away from that Valkyrie. Instead, you're keepin' close, which either means that you're workin' together, or she's gone rogue, and you're gettin' ready to take 'er in. Either way, I ain't gonna sit around, sippin' tea while Jack faces off against death itself all on 'is own. Now let me free of this illusion, before I 'lose my temper'."

That look passes over Loki's face again, like Aster is a particularly fascinating science experiment. "You really do care about him," he observes with wonder, as if he's just made one of the world's most incredible discoveries.

"'Course I do!" insists the lagomorph, offended. "He's my friend, and a Guardian—we look after each other."

"Naturally," muses the Prince, as he settles back in his chair and props his elbow on the arm rest, so that he can lean head against his fist. "As much as I'd hate for you to _lose_ your _temper_ , I'm afraid I have no way of letting you out. This isn't an illusion," he flaps his free hand around lazily, gesturing to the corridor, "it's a looping pocket dimension that we use back in Asgard to trap intruders."

"'Course it is," goes Bunny.

"I altered it to only release whoever is trapped within it—myself not included—once a particular series of events occurs."

"'Course you did."

The trickster smiles serenely and reaches across himself to grab his coffee cup. He takes a sip and promises, "You really have nothing to worry about. Vela and Jack are friends, however distant they may be these days. She is the last person who will ever willingly harm Jack. So, relax _Kangaroo_ —our dear Winter herald is in safe hands." In fact, he knows that Vela will die before she lets anything happen to Jack. "May as well get comfortable, we'll be waiting a while yet."

Aster crosses his arms, set to spend the remaining time in the trickster's dumb trap stewing, but then something about his conversation with Loki finally registers, and he turns all his focus back on the prince. "Hold on, did you say winter _herald_?"

Toothiana is the second to lose her patience with the send-offs. Quite uncharacteristically, she doesn't even bother excusing herself as she sets off for the nearest door that will take her to the hall that connects to the guest rooms. It's only been a few minutes since Aster took off, but she's already dreading the thought of having to deal with the aftermath of what will no doubt be a very angry encounter between the winter and spring Guardians. She has long grown tired of listening to Aster complain about Jack's avoidance and not hearing from Jack at all, because "I don't want to talk about it, Tooth." She wants to help her friends, but she can't do that if she doesn't have all the details. "Maybe it's time for a family meeting—a Guardian meeting!" she corrects herself hastily, turning her head to dart a nervous glance in Baby Tooth's direction. She drops out of flight as she realizes that her baby isn't at her usual perch on her shoulder. "Seriously?" she hisses in frustration, already knowing where her mini has flown off to.

"Tooth!" The voice that calls for her is not one that she's expecting, but it's familiar none the less. She turns around to face her old friend, who looks…decidedly nervous, she decides. That only holds her attention for a moment, however, because she immediately feels wary when she recognizes his companion. Her eyes narrow, the god's title on the tip of her tongue.

"Ah, so this is Lady Toothiana, the Great Warrior Queen!" Two of Thor's hands dwarf one of Tooth's when he takes it in his. "Hiccup said you were beautiful, but I fear he may not have done you justice," he admits, as he lifts her hand to brush his lips across her knuckles. Hiccup quirks an eyebrow, taken off guard by the amount of bullshit that his friend is currently pulling out of his ass, and slightly impressed by the fact that the Asgardian doesn't so much as blink under the intensity of Toothiana's cutting glare. "Tales of your adventures are spoken of often, even in Asgard. It is an honor to finally meet you."

"Prince Thor, son of Odin," acknowledges the queen, her tone cool as she pulls her hand free of Thor's grasp. "If what you said were true, and Hiccup had spoken to you about me, then you would know better than to try to distract me with pretty words and flattery." Getting straight to the point, she continues, "Asgardians don't normally show up to a party alone, especially not the two most famous sons of Odin. Asgardians are also the first to show up to a party, but I happen to know for a fact that you arrived shortly after Jack's friend made her appearance."

Hiccup watches on, amused, as Thor stares at Toothiana with something like wonder in his gaze. "Your Highness, I'm not the wordsmith that my brother is. Though you think my words pretty, that doesn't make them any less true. Your reputation really does precede you," the Asgardian claims with his most earnest expression. The Tooth Fairy flushes beneath her feathers, and the Holly King snorts, drawing the attention of both his friends.

"Yet you don't deny that they are a distraction," says Tooth, her tone slightly scolding, when she looks back to Thor. "Where is your brother, Thor Odinson? And what does that Valkyrie want with Jack Frost?"

The prince straightens, affecting an air of seriousness, though it does nothing to take away from his ever-present charm. Thor hadn't been lying when he said that he isn't the wordsmith that Loki is, but Hiccup has been his friend long enough to know that he is just as good at manipulating people as his adoptive brother. Unfortunately for him, Tooth had always been particularly good at seeing through the bullshit that people often threw her way. Thor tells her, with a good dose of cheer, "I'm afraid I can't say, your Majesty, because I don't know."

Across the large room, the double doors close with a loud, ominous sound, and Hiccup can see Santa Clause and the Sandman making their way over, having seen off the last of the guests. Their expressions are decidedly unamused. When he looks back at Tooth, her glare has returned full-force, and he doesn't miss the fact that she isn't just directing it Thor's way anymore.

The Holly King heaves a sigh and presses his fingers to his temples, feeling the pressure start to build at the base of his neck.

It's definitely going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hate this chapter. I just. I hate it so very, very much. I had originally rewritten the second chapter of The Heart of the Cards, with the scene between Hiccup and Jack, but it felt like something was missing, so I decided to add in a scene with a pair of our favourite Asgardians.
> 
> The problem is, I wasn't satisfied with it. So, I rewrote it, and I rewrote it, and I rewrote it, and I rewrote it. Four times, guys. I rewrote this fucking chapter four fucking times, and I'm still not terribly satisfied with it?
> 
> In any case, Chapter 3 is basically already written, because I had that finished before I began this, so that should be up soon.
> 
> Trivia!  
> A few years ago, I read from a Norse mythology text that Loki tricked some Dwarves, and he ended up having his mouth sewn shut as a result. Not fun. In this story, Loki was adopted by the Asgardian royal family, but he's aware of his heritage, so there's no bad-blood there.
> 
> This chapter takes place at the same time as chapter one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack takes a trip in an effort to sort his thoughts, and four of his favourite people decide to make an appearance. When Hiccup shows up on-scene, the conversation gets a bit rough.

**ASTER ISN'T SURE HOW LONG HE SPENDS IN THE POCKET DIMENSION WITH LOKI.** However much time it may be is too much, he decides. He's sitting slumped back in the stupidly comfortable chair that the god conjured up for him, feeling exhausted down to the bone, and all they've done is talk. More specifically, all they've done is talk about Jack. It's almost funny, thinks Bunny (in the sense that it really isn't very funny at all), because he's learned more about Jack in the handful of hours (?) he's spent with Loki, than he has in the last several years he's known his actual teammate.

The trickster sighs and takes a sip from his coffee cup, which seems to be perpetually full. He glances at his wrist, though it holds no watch. "It would seem that our time is almost up."

"What makes you so sure?" Bunnymund asks, not so much curious as he is desperate for a distraction.

The trickster tosses him a serene smile and says, "Well I'm psychic, obviously." The other man squints at him, not sure entirely sure if he's being serious or not. "Would you like to know what happens next?"

His smile twists into something a little more devious, and he says, "It'll go a little something like _this_."

Jack doesn't bother with goodbyes when he leaves the party. In fact, he goes out of his way to avoid all contact. It's rude, he knows, especially considering how welcoming everyone (or, at least, almost everyone) had been with him. But, considering everything that just happened, he just can't find the room for manners and curtesy in his current thought process.

So, he throws himself out of the very same window that Vela left through, letting the wind tug him away from the warmth of North's workshop.

The wind is a whisper in his ears as he rides the currents with no set destination in mind. It's like an annoying buzz that he can't quite shake; one that he's even grown somewhat fond of over the years.

He knows what to expect when, a short time later, he finally sets down at his very own little "Fortress of Solitude".

          (Which, really, is less of a fortress and is just an arctic ice shelf that he goes to pace on when he's brooding.)

Tate's voice is an echo along the barren landscape before he even takes a physical form, and he immediately says, "That wasn't very kind, you know." It is, of course, a reprimand, because Tate is always happy to be the first to tell you what you've done wrong, but he is calm, and his presence is a soothing balm to Jack's frayed nerves.

Even when he spending his time scolding the other immortal.

"Personally, I don't think kindness has any place here, at the moment." Notus' voice is just a whisper in his ear, up until she takes shape, and her expression screams irritation.

At least one of them is on his side.

"There is always time for kindness," Silla reminds them when he pops into existence, but he whacks Jack's arm with the back of his hand as he speaks, sending the winter spirit stumbling.

Fei Lian catches him from falling off the ice shelf with a light gust as ze appears at his side.

"Fighting already, are we?"

Around them, the storm that had been brewing at Jack's behest abruptly settles.

"You know," Jack huffs, "I was kind of looking for a little _space_ ," but his words lack heat, so he is grateful when they ignore him, because he doesn't honestly want to be alone right now.

Vela is gone for the moment (although her company may not be welcome, even if she was present), and he hasn't been in contact with the few other friends he has in quite some time (that that is more his fault than theirs). In all reality, space is the last thing that Jack Frost wants; something the wind deities are clearly aware of, given the way they talk right over him and leap head-first straight into their bickering. Well, Notus and Tate bicker. Silla attempts to interject, as he always does, and fails (as he always does).

And, as Fei Lian always does, ze simply waits it all out.

"Honestly Jack, I don't think you should have just up and left like that without talking to the other Guardians," Silla finally says.

"Are you joking?" Notus cuts in, before Jack can so much as open his mouth. "After what just happened? After all we just found out?" Her hands flutter as she speaks, arms swinging out dramatically, and she very nearly backhands Tate. "I can't believe Vela would do something like this to us!" she says, as though Jack hasn't spent the past 200 plus years listening to her complain about the Valkyrie anytime she was so much as mentioned by name.

"I always knew there was something off about that one," Tate agrees, in spite of the fact that he and Notus had been arguing just a moment ago.

"Even more reason to have consulted the Guardians," says Silla, and he steps closer to Jack. "Something about all this feels off, you must sense that, and telling your friends about what happened-"

"They're not…!" Jack cuts off his own outburst and brings his hands up to his face, fingers pressing harshly into closed eyelids. It would be a lie, to say such a thing, because they _are_ his friends. The words are an automatic response, even now, though they couldn't be less true.

They are all abruptly silent, and he takes in a ragged breath, but right now, the biting arctic air doesn't clear his mind the way it usually does. He lets his hands drop, and when he opens his eyes, they're all watching him intently.

Fei Lian places a hand on his shoulder. "They're not what, Jack? Not your friends?" ze asks.

"Of course they're my friends." It's been 5 (or 6) years, they definitely qualify as friends in his book, but then the qualifications for being Jack's "friend" have always been questionable, at best.

"But?" Silla prompts.

He lets out a harsh breath. "Friends care about each other; they don't start petty fights over whose stupid holiday is better, or beat the stuffing out of you over an accident—and they sure as hell don't dub you Bringer of _Death_!" The ice beneath him cracks sharply underfoot, and Jack's chest seizes in fear. He calms when Notus steps forward and takes his hand, giving a reassuring squeeze. She looks at him in worry, and he squeezes back, trying to reassure _her_. "Friends take care of each other," he says fiercely, "without thought; without wanting anything in return."

He honestly considers the Guardians friends, but sometimes he is hard-pressed to believe that the feeling is mutual, when it comes to some.

(Fine, when it comes to Aster.)

Jack hadn't had to defeat a damn Nightmare King to earn Tate's friendship. The wind spirit had reached for _him_ that night at the lake, and the others had followed, most of them finding a good companion in the new immortal. Fei Lian had, admittedly, thrown him around a bit when they'd first met. But now Jack knew that ze would do anything for him, and he for hir. Hell, that went for all the wind-weavers.

Tate and Silla share a long look before the former roll his eyes and steps forward to catch the Winter King's attention. He goes, "Look Jack, about the kangaroo- "

The sound of snow crunching beneath booted feet has the wind elemental stopping short. Jack's four companions disappear in a swirl of frigid air and snow, his personally crafted blizzard from earlier kicking back up with enough ferocity to burry a town. If Jack had the motivation for it, he could do exactly that. Instead, he tightens his grip on his staff, and the storm slowly begins to die down.

When things have cleared up, Jack can't help but quirk an eyebrow at the Holly King, who stands tall and proud, only a handful of yards away. He looks completely unruffled by Jack emotionally-fueled storm, so very unlike the boy he once knew.

The former Chief of Berk has come a long way from the clumsy dragon trainer he once was.

"You know how hard it is for them to maintain corporeal form," Jack scolds as he keeps on working at soothing the storm into something calmer.

Hiccup watches him in silence, taking a moment to think about how surreal it feels to be standing across from his counterpart. He had sensed his departure from Santoff Clausen just as one of the yeti had stepped into the hall to inform the Guardian's that Jack had been spotted leaping from the window of one of the guest rooms. A fight had broken out over who would go after the winter spirit, but it had quickly been settled when Hiccup had informed them that he was the only one who could sense where Jack would go, given their link as seasonal heralds. He'd left immediately, after reluctantly promising to bring his friend back to the North Pole. Now, as he stands with Jack, he simply wants to take his time. It's only been a year since they've seen one another, but it feels like it's been a century.

Just as the silence begins to border on the edge of too long, he finally forces himself to catch up with the conversation. "Funny, it looked like they were managing just fine until they realized someone else was lurking about," The autumn spirit says casually, before he immediately cringes. "Not that I was lurking, because that would be weird . . . and a bit creepy." He ignores Jack's obnoxious snort as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat and takes a step forward. He tries, at least, but the snow is deep, and his boot catches at it when he tries to move. So, Jack gives himself a quick second to enjoy the panic on Hiccup's face, while the other man performs a parody of a pinwheel before nearly face-planting right there.

Perhaps "a long way" was a bit of an exaggeration, he thinks.

Jack reaches out to steady the other man before he can injure himself, and a smile tilts at his lips. "You know," he says, "when pagans and practitioners talk about you, they make you sound so dignified. Imagine what they'd think if they actually _met_ you. Thousands of young men and women, devastated to find that their beloved Holly King is actually a complete and total dork."

"Ha ha," Hiccup replies in that dry tone of his, while Jack helps him right himself. It's quite clear, however, that he can't quite keep the grin off his face. But he sobers very quickly when he says, "It's been a while."

The Winter King takes a step or two away, putting some space between them. "It's only been, like, a year," he corrects. It certainly wasn't the decades that he and Vela spent apart.

(That particular thought leeches him of any good cheer that Hiccup's visit has brought.)

"Right," the Fall-bringer agrees, pulling his hands free of his pockets to fumble with the zipper of his coat. Normally, he has some sort of device in one hand and a tool in the other, tinkering away at his latest project. Seeing him empty-handed this way is a strange sight indeed. "Usually we meet up every Solstice, but it's been a _year_ , Jack. You didn't even stop by to help me paint the leaves." When the other man keeps quiet, Hiccup goes on, "You know, we never abandon you for our new friends."

He is immediately tired of this conversation, as it is one that never seems to end. This argument is one that he's been having since he first told the other heralds that he had been made a Guardian. The others had been sore about the whole thing, a particular someone had demanded that he choose, as if they were at war and the Guardians were the enemy. They had eventually, begrudgingly, accepted the strange new facet to Jack's life (honestly, Jack felt as though he'd had an easier time adapting than they had). It isn't rare, however, for the Guardian to find himself on the receiving end of petty barbs like this, and when he dares to speak of his newest friends around his oldest ones, they tend to shoot him betrayed looks and make a scene.

Today, Jack's usual well of patience (ha) is low, and he doesn't particularly feel like dealing with Hiccup's dramatics.

So, he spins on his feet and heads for the edge of the ice shelf. "It's not like that!" he shouts over his shoulder, because now his mood has once again gotten the better of him, and the light breeze from before has turned loud in their ears as it tugs at their hair and clothes. He plops down there at the edge when he reaches it, and it is by literal sheer force of Winter's will that his little chunk of ice doesn't break off and fall into the dark crevice below, taking him along for the ride.

Hiccup's trek towards him makes for quite an entertaining sight, right up until he goes from walking to sliding, and then nearly goes right over the edge of the ice shelf. Jack automatically reaches out and catches him, grip tight on the material of his fur-lined coat. He sighs and says, "I wish you would be more careful."

"Don't need to," Hiccup says as he levels himself down to sit beside his friend, the prosthesis making it a bit difficult.

(Jack has asked before why he doesn't just will his injury away and make his leg whole again, but he never got a proper answer.)

"At least," the immortal continues, "not when I've got you around to look after me." He rocks to the side, bumps his shoulder into Jacks.

"Pfft," goes the Winter King, while he leans over to bump back. "Plus, it helps when you've got a dragon tailing you twenty-four-seven," he adds, leaning forward to peer into the abyss that separates their ice shelf from another. A set of glowing green eyes peer back at him from the dark, and Toothless trills a greeting. It reminds him of Baby Tooth. "I was wondering where you were hiding."

The Night Fury digs his claws into the wall of ice and climbs up, pulling himself free of the shadows, the dark shade of his scales nearly blending in seamlessly.

Jack's breath catches in his throat, nearly choking him on the inhale as something surfaces in the back of his mind. It's like a memory, all too tangible in the way his current surroundings shred apart and fall away. His staff is a solid weight in his hand, but it's in pieces at his feet when he looks down, and all the light is gone, fading away as he does. He can only watch as the darkness moves steadily towards him, clawed fingers reaching out and catching at his gradually dimming hoodie. No, wait, this isn't his hoodie, because what he wears here isn't made of cloth, it's-

"Jack!"

Reality returns with a violent jolt, but it still takes a second before Jack registers Hiccup's bruising grip on his arm. He shakes him off and says, "I'm fine." The other man looks dubious; hell, he doesn't even manage to convince _himself_. Thankfully, the Holly King is gracious enough to let it go, although his expression is rather conspicuous as Toothless settles at their backs and drapes his tail over their laps. Almost as if to trap Jack in place—he shoots a suspicious glance his friend's way—but still brushes his fingers over butter-soft scales.

(All of this is done while he's stuffing that panicked feeling into the deepest, darkest corner at the back of his mind, where he hopes it will keep.)

"Anyway, about your friends, if they even are that anymore- "

Jack shoots him a dirty look and demands, "Just how long were you spying on us for?"

His favourite wind deities make a point of sending Hiccup swaying with a gust of air, just to remind him that they're still present.

"Long enough," he replies with a shrug, reaching a hand up to brush at wild strands of hair.

"Long enough to hear what Vela said to me at Santoff Clausen? Or did you know about that before she bothered saying anything?" The light snowfall grows heavy again, and Jack abruptly pushes Toothless' tail aside so that he can stand, using his staff as leverage to haul himself up.

Hiccup is just as careful as he stands, using a firm grip on Toothless' saddle to keep his balance on the slick ice. "No," he says slowly. "Now that you mention it, though, what _did_ Vela say to you, Jack?"

The winter spirit squints at him, trying to determine whether he's telling the truth. If the past week has shown him anything, it's that even his closest friends aren't always trustworthy. The former chief of Berk isn't his closest friend, by far, but he is one friend that Jack has known the longest. "You're really telling me that you don't know?"

"Vela has been your friend much longer than she's been mine—do you honestly think that she'd confide in me before you?"

Hiccup's words are a stark reminder of the fact that Jack never fully explained the reason that he and Vela cut ties all those years ago, but he knows that now isn't the best time to bring that up.

"That's just it!" he shouts in frustration as he shoves long fingers in his hair and tugs, "I don't know!" He turns his back to Hiccup and then turns to face him again. Now, he feels uneasy about exposing himself that way to anyone, even an ally. "Vela told me that she was there the day I went from being mortal to changing into . . . this."

"You just gestured to all of you," Hiccup notes.

"Right." Jack goes on, "She _implied_ some…things."

His companion looks at once both pleased and upset. "Jack, that is . . . _such_ an honor." He looks paler than usual, and it makes his freckles stand out even more. "But that would mean . . ."

"Right."

Silence settles over the Fortress, Fall speechless and wide-eyed, while he stares at Winter, unsure of what to say.

It takes a few moments, but eventually Jack finally says, "I've been waiting, you know? I kept thinking to myself _'Someone made a mistake'_. It looks like I may have been right."

Hiccup moves so suddenly that it looks like he's lunging, and Jack is surprised enough that he brings his staff up in defense, unused to the sudden movements or close contact after a year of self-induced isolation. The staff simply gets squished between them as his friend wraps him up in a hug. He lets go of it all together after a second so that he can return the hug, because he misses this. He misses all the other seasons.

"You know this wasn't a mistake," the dragon rider says with absolute certainty. "If anyone was meant to be here, it's you, Jack. If anyone knows that, it's us."

"I'm _tired_ of fighting, Hiccup," the other man confesses, exhaustion etched in the drooping line of his shoulders as he leans heavily into the support of his friend.

It's a frightening thing to hear from someone the dragon rider has always known to be so full of joy and light, but he can't say that it's unexpected. Still, it takes a moment for him to choke down the lump in his throat before he can bring himself to speak, and even then his voice is too-soft in his own ears, and the words taste bitter and insincere in his mouth, "Jack, I know-"

"No," his friend says firmly, his expression open, his tone honest, "you don't know."

The oxygen in Hiccup's lungs catches, a fire lighting in his chest, as warm compassion for the other man burns away into anger. He releases Jack and pulls out of the hug, needing some distance. "If you think you're the only one who's suffered…!"

"I really don't," Jack responds easily, lifting one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug, and Hiccup's fury gives way to confusion. "We have _all_ suffered, but I think we both know that our situations are different—and I don't mean that I've suffered more, or that you've had things easier, because you haven't." He shakes his head and runs long fingers through his hair, brushes a loose dusting of snowflakes free.

Hiccup's eyes trace the movement out of habit, before skipping back to the sharp winter-blue of Jack's gaze.

"I'm not trying to compare how much worse-off anyone has had it, because you can't _measure_ shit like that, no matter what people seem to believe. It's just," here he swallows and tightens his grip on his crook, "we're all different, we all have limits to how much we can handle." He blows out a breath and goes on, "It's been 300 years, Hiccup, and I feel like I spent all three hundred fighting one battle after another. It's exhausting, man— _I'm_ exhausted."

"I don't understand," Hiccup says slowly. "You're talking as though Vela is some enemy you're going to be facing down on the battle field. I know you two didn't leave off on the best terms, and what she told you must be a shock, but do you really believe that she would try to reap you after all this time? That doesn't make any sense, Jack. Why did she wait? And why tell you now, if that is her plan? What, exactly, did she say that has you so on edge?"

Jack looks down and away as he thinks about the conversation with Vela. She had been antsy and cryptic, not to mention over-the-top dramatic (but that's pretty typical when it comes to basically everyone he knows) with her "warnings" about not trusting the other Guardians. Everything about their exchange had screamed trap. It's the desperation that has him feeling uneasy. The Mighty Vela had begged Jack Frost for something as simple as a piece of his time, and the desperation that had bled through in her voice and gestures had been painfully genuine. He'll never admit to it aloud, but it scares him, because it's a stark reminder of the desperation that he'd seen in someone else, but not soon enough to do anything about it. A memory springs forward in his mind, one that makes him think about warmth, metaphorical and without the heat, and the smell of gunpowder.

_"You gotta be real careful, when it comes to others like us, Jackie. Times are rough; the humans don't worship the way they used to, and some spirits get real desperate. And desperation--well, sometimes it drives folks to do some pretty terrible things."_

Jack had been young back then, in terms of his life as a spirit. He hadn't seen or experienced very much. Now, however, at three and a quarter centuries, he is all too familiar with all the different ways that desperation can make monsters out of good people. He wonders what has Vela desperate enough to come to him for help. He wonders if he has it in him to give her the help that she needs.

"...an you hear me?" He blinks and looks up at Hiccup, who stands directly in front of him, his long fingers curled carefully around the ball of Jack's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he croaks. "Sorry, just got a bit lost for a minute there."

"Yeah," the other man agrees, "I could see that. You back with me, space case?" His tone is all in good-humor, and his expression is soft, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Jack glances to the side, pretending that he doesn't see it, as he steps back for a bit of distance. He runs a hand through his hair and offers up a jerky nod. "Yeah, I'm good, and you're right. I'm just overthinking this; being paranoid." He doesn't realize how tightly he's gripping his staff until he hears the wood creak ominously. "Vela just said that she has answers. She wants to meet up and talk about things."

Hiccup's smile fades as he stares at the curl of Jack's fingers around the crook and his too-pale knuckles. He asks, "Why are you lying to me?"

Deny, deny, _deny_.

Jack opens his mouth, but the Holly King holds up a hand in a demand for silence, and keeps speaking, "Five minutes ago, you were convinced that you would have to fight Vela to keep her from dragging you to Valhalla, and now you're trying to tell me that nothing is wrong? You were talking like you were all set to welcome death with open arms. What the hell is going on, Jack?"

Hiccup barely gets to the end of his sentence before a portal is screaming into existence off to the side in swirl of bright magic and snow.

Four yeti step through, two of them carrying...red sacks?

"Phil!" says Jack and one of the hairy creatures grumbles at him as it raises the red bag in hand. The Guardian goes, "Right," in a resigned tone, before turning to look back at Hiccup, "don't struggle, okay?"

"What?" the dragon rider manages to say, just before red silk drops down on him like a curtain, enveloping him in darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tate is a Lakota wind god.
> 
> Silla (also known as Silap Inua) is the Inuit deity of the sky, the wind, and the weather. In this case, I'm simply borrowing him to use as a wind spirit.
> 
> Notus is the Greek god of the south wind, but here he takes the form of a girl.
> 
> Fei Lian is from the Chinese mythology, and is often interpreted as either male or female. Originally, I made Fei Lian female, but I thought the character was better suited as identifying as neither male nor female. It just made more sense to me.
> 
> In this story, the four listed are only a few of many wind deities, but I selected them specifically because they are the closest to Jack. The others know Jack, and they help him on occasion, but they aren't as close or friendly.
> 
> During the turn of the season, it is said that the Holly King and the Oak King battle for control. In Spring and Summer, the Oak King is dominant. In the Fall and Winter, it is the Holly King who has control. No actual battles take place with Hiccup or anyone else; it's just a name that humans have given him that he can't quite seem to shake (because Jack loves adding fuel to the fire—metaphorically, obviously). 
> 
> Ten virtual cookies of your favourite flavor to whoever can figure out who was speaking to Jack in that memory of his.

**Author's Note:**

> Counted Out - Beginner Card Trick  
> A card ends up where the spectator tells it to be.


End file.
